Steel Blade!

by Alsvid

I.

The prestigious Oxbridge University stretches across the northeastern reaches of Canterlot, dug firmly into the side of the towering, white-capped mountain; an awe-inspiring jumble of ancient buildings, lined with crooked, tiny streets sharply inclined upward with the elevation of the school, belted with grim, grey walls spanning enough ground to suit a city– and, indeed, from a distance Oxbridge resembles a forbidding walled city.

Oxbridge University’s dramatic, ancient architecture dates back to the founding of Canterlot City itself.
High curtain walls and parapets glare down onto the streets below. Within the walls are stout towers, bright, green quadrangles surrounded by lush green ivy climbing the grey walls, long, sweeping halls with soaring ceilings, and pennants snapping in the breeze from flagstaffs: the University flag, a navy blue field and a golden crown atop an open book, its cover gold, its pages white with black text, bearing the motto of the University:

DICTUM SAPIENTI SAT EST

The walls are worn with weather and time; here and there, the gouges and scars of past battles can be observed in their dull, iron-grey stone.

The University is regarded to have been one of the oldest in all of Equestria, comprised of thirty-three self-governing colleges and the support infrastructure necessary to sustain such a large academic facility, with a vast underground network of catacombs, cellars, and hidden passages.

At present, it is home to over 20,000 pliant students.

---

Battle College, the second oldest college in Oxbridge University, looks like a tough castle keep from Canterlot’s founding days, the college flags bearing a device of two crossed silver swords on a light blue field, surrounded by a golden Sunburst.

---

Professor Deborah Bowes-Lyon, a slender, elegant-looking golden-furred Pegasus mare with arrestingly sharp red eyes, a fluffy grey-and-black mane, and severe, narrow-rimmed eyeglasses, set her book down.

“Class is over for today. Please don’t forget to examine your supplements. I expect to have them by tomorrow!”

She glared very frostily at the sea of nubile young mares before her. They were taking barely any notice of her whatsoever, save for a trusty few. The others were busy scrambling to leave, furiously shoving books and pencils and other gear into their bags, or chatting with their friends.

“Ah, I’m starving…”

“Where’d you like to go have lunch?”

“You choose!”

“No, it’s your turn!”

Two young mares – a Pegasus with a white coat and red hair, and a lilac-colored Unicorn with green hair, were deep in conversation.
“-And all the apples were sucked dry! Just like-“ the Pegasus snapped her fingers – “-that! Can you believe that, Forsythia?”

Forsythia assumed a thoughtful look. “Why, no, Diamond Rose! Are you sure she wasn’t merely imagining things?”

“She seemed far too upset for such a thing, ‘Thia. In fact, I-“

The severe form of the Professor loomed over them, resplendent in her sensible white blouse, a white shirt, and a brown vest, adorned with a neat little red tie.

“Gossiping, you two? That’s not very nice.”

Forsythia and Diamond Rose hastened to demur to the negative that they had been doing such a shameful thing, with abashed looks, and promptly joined the flow of students leaving the room.

The Professor sighed gently, and returned to her lectern; she began placing her teaching instruments back into a small brown leather briefcase; well-worn, the leather worn smooth from years of use. While she did this, the other students filed out, leaving her by herself.

She spent a few moments gazing at the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular, allowing herself to decompress from the effort of teaching.

She then left the room.

---
It was a pitch-black October night. Professor Deborah, wrapped in a black trenchcoat, strode purposefully across the quadrangle. Her nerves tingled warningly, her muscles tensing, the fur on the back of her neck lifting, her long equine ears pinning back against her skull.

She glanced up at the dark, foreboding skies and saw only the barest sliver of a silver moon, wreathed in brooding black clouds. She licked her lips, her abdomen clenching.

“Why am I scared? There’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Afraid of the dark, how silly of me! What a thing to fear!” she thought to herself, sweeping the quadrangle with her eyes. Indeed, the darkness lent the quadrangle an eerie aura that it lacked in the daylight.

Professor Deborah had taken her time leaving the college hall, allowing the bulk of the students to leave before her. As such, the quadrangle directly before the hall was quite empty. She was by herself, which only gave her a profound sense of discomfort.

“Don’t be absurd!” she thought to herself. “Nothing can harm you in this citadel. Why, this is Celestia’s capital city itself, and this is one of the most respected universities in the Monarchy.”

She strode down the quadrangle resolutely, clutching her briefcase in one grey-gloved hand, the other thrust in her coat pocket. She rubbed the hilt of her dueling rapier fondly, and felt better at the touch of the firm handle under her fingers.

Professor Deborah turned a corner, and stopped, staring at the obscene sight before her in shock.

One of her students, a young Unicorn mare named Junebug, lay in a swoon upon the ground. Her blonde-haired head was resting in the lap of a pale, unearthly beautiful, youthful Pegasus mare with white fur and bright, glowing green eyes, with slits for pupils. The pale mare, her magnificent, long black mane, tinged at the ends with red highlights spilling down her shoulders, sat quite still upon the ground, pressing her fingers to Junebug’s forehead, her pillowy, crimson lips set in a firm line of concentration.

Professor Deborah’s eyes met those of the Pegasus mare, and the Pegasus mare recoiled. She opened her mouth, showing long, sharp fangs, and gave an ear-piercing, keening shriek. She spread wide her wings with a sharp snap; they were awful, bat-like things with sharp claws, leathery and tough, buffeting the Professor with a blast of wind.

Professor Deborah threw her arms over her head, instinctively bending her knees and leaning forward combatively. She furrowed her brows, eyes narrowing behind her spectacles, her teeth bared in a snarl.

“What are you doing to my student?” she shouted, her voice ringing off the walls of the quadrangle. “You have no right to be here! Unhand her at once!”

“Shan’t!” the Pegasus mare screeched at her, in an uncanny, whispering shriek. She leaped up to her hooves, leaving the unfortunate Junebug.

“Why? What on Equestria did she do to you, you freakish looking mare? And why, pray, are your eyes slitted like that? Why do you have wings like a bat? Answer me!” she commanded the Pegasus Mare, staring her down icily, her gaze unblinking, unyielding. She knew the answer to her question, but she prayed, just this once, that she was wrong. “Anything but this. Let it not be what I know it is-“ Professor Deborah thought.

She could smell pumpkin spice and apples wafting from the Pegasus Mare, and a murkier scent beside that.

“Wretch!” bellowed the Pegasus mare, hands twisted into enraged claws, fingers bent, her arms spread at ninety-degree angles at her sides. Her head lolled to one side, her long, forked, fruit-bat ears twitching.

She was wearing a tight leather corset, a black leather thong, and calf-length boots, clinging to the supple curves of her thighs. A bright falchion – a long, curving, evil-looking weapon with a blade akin to an overgrown meat cleaver and a black steel handle – hung naked at her right hip.

“You address me in such familiar ways! And such a temper you have! Making such dangerous assumptions! You already know what I am, then.”

“Yes, Draculina, I do,” Professor Deborah muttered darkly. She slid one hoof back, resting one hand upon the hilt of her dueling rapier. “An accursed Fruit Bat Vampire. A darkling, the creature of the Abyss; the creeping terror that rises from the depths of the Shadow. I heard my students talk of your ilk, but dismissed it as mere girlish fancy. It’s nearly Nightmare Night, and I thought to myself that they were having some seasonal holiday fun. But it’s you…and you’ve been making yourself felt, haven’t you? Kidnapping students and stealing apples, I vow. Why? What do you seek? What are you looking for?”

“I seek slaves to work my will upon this city, mortal,” the Pegasus Vampire hissed, baring her long teeth at Professor Deborah, bending over in a crouch. She thrust her long, serpentine tongue out at Professor Deborah, who recoiled slightly in disgust at the muscular, glistening pink length of agile muscle. “Above all else, I desire power, and these young mares you shepherd shall further my goals. Will you not ask me my name?”

“It matters little and less to me what your selfish desires are, Draculina!” shouted Professor Deborah.

“Do not call me that!” the Pegasus Vampire mare shrieked.

“I shall call you what I please, Draculina,” Professor Deborah admonished her sharply. “Leave this place. I am done bargaining with you. I do not wish to bandy words with Tartarus-spawn such as yourself.”

“My name is Claret!” the Pegasus Vampire mare protested. “And you will obey my order! I had no wish to take more than two victims, but if it must be so, I shall take you as well! Heed my command, mortal! You cannot resist-“

In a flash, Professor Deborah ripped her dueling rapier from her scabbard and raised it before Claret. The keen edge of her blade sang in the cold October air.

The tip of the sword lay just before Claret’s pointy little nose. The Vampire Pegasus mare nearly went cross-eyed trying to track the nearly invisible point of the impossibly sharp rapier.

“Do not make me repeat myself.” Professor Deborah’s voice was low and grim. Her sparkling red eyes narrowed.

Deborah was in a fencer’s stance, her legs spread, one arm raised, the other firmly gripping her rapier.